A scary thought for someone like me. For several months last year, I’d been engaged to a cardiovascular surgeon who turned out to be more of a heartbreaker than mender. Shortly after I broke it off with the serial cheater, I qualified for the field staff pool for Doctors without Borders. I’d made a conscious decision not to get involved with any new man until I returned home.
I leaned back into the warm mist, and mulled over what little I knew about Chris Oakley. He’d mentioned no brothers or sisters. For all I knew he could have a girlfriend or fiancée back home. And she could be still be alive and not zombified.
The container of body wash nearly slipped through my fingers.
I reminded myself that he’d talked about wanting to sail around the world, and I was the only person he’d ever invited. And there was something else about Chris. He was remarkably good with me. Not that I was difficult. Okay, maybe I was a little difficult. The words bossy and controlling had been mentioned by a few ex-boyfriends.
Chris had actually seemed amused by my strong feminist side, and so far had not exhibited any of the usual signs of twenty-first century male narcissism. He was neither a metro male, nor a cowboy. And he certainly wasn’t the kind of man who runs hot and cold, and is never there when you need him. From the moment he rolled into my life on that road rocket motorcycle, Chris had always been there for me.
I rinsed coconut conditioner out of my hair, along with my worries, concerns, and doubts. All we needed was time to get to know each other.
I sucked in a deep breath of steamy air and exhaled slowly. In almost every category, from battle-hardened z-slayer to giver of amazing orgasms, Chris was batting close to a thousand. I thought about our first time—sex in the transport truck. We barely knew each other, and yet he’d stayed with me right to the finish. His skilled fingers and whispered words had allowed me to let go and experience an earth-shattering orgasm.
Never in my life had that happened. And the fact that it had happened the first time in zombie-infested territory was beyond remarkable.
The door clicked, and I opened my eyes in time to check out the naked man stepping into my shower. Seeing him completely nude sent shivers through me. Tall and athletic with sleek, nicely defined muscle, my gaze moved lower, to his semi-erect cock and long sinewy legs. Definitely a wow, just wow body. We both paused to openly admire each other before he swept an arm around my waist.
He kissed a few beads of water on my nose. “You smell like home,” he sniffed, “coconut and….”
“Vanilla.” I turned to let him move under the showerhead. I would not characterize the shower in the master berth as roomy, but it had it’s own door, a luxury in a sailing yacht.
He pressed his palms to each side of the control and let the warm water beat down on his neck and shoulders, which gave me a view of his gluteus maximus. Such a nice shape with those sexy dents at each hip. Inspired, I ran soapy hands around his waist and followed sexy groin muscles lower, to his growing erection.
He turned around and took my face in his hands. Wet lashes blinked as he studied every feature on my face. “See what you do to me, Lizzy?”
He dipped lower and licked the underside of my Cupid’s bow, teasing my lips open. Sensuous, and unhurried, his kisses mingled with shower droplets. “Coconut body wash, please?”
I poured a nice dollop in both his palms. He soaped my breasts and plucked at sensitive nipples until I whimpered. He dipped lower and sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the slippery tip. And when his free hand slid between my legs, my knees grew wobbly.
He wrapped an arm around my waist. “Steady, girl.” His hands cupped both ass cheeks, and lifted me enough to catch a nipple between his teeth.
“Ahh—Chris,” I gasped, as I slid down his torso.
Every rock hard inch of him throbbed under my slippery descent. “My turn.” I soaped his chest, moving over his shoulders, to his underarms, and back down that rippled torso.
“Hold onto him,” I ordered.
A dimple appeared alongside a grin. He gripped the thick base of his jerking erection while I squeezed more soap into my hand. Working up a good lather, I applied the suds to his cock, loving the sound of his pleasure, so honest and primal.
I wanted to check out his shower technique, so I encouraged him to do a bit of self-pleasuring. He took long pulls, sweeping his thumb over the crest as he teased out a bit of pre-cum.
While he stroked, I lathered his testicles, running my fingers over his heavy sack.
“Fuck, Lizzy, don’t stop.”
I circled his anus with a soapy finger and manipulated gently. “Like?”
“Oh yeah.” He wrapped my hands around his impressive cock. “Long strokes, baby, and harder.”
I applied everything I’d observed. A slow glide down the shaft and a little squeeze at the tip. The sound of his groan, his handsome face taut with arousal. He pressed both palms to the sides of the stall. “On your knees, Lizzy.”
I dropped down, and sucked the tip first, licking my way up and down the shaft. He held my head, and thrust deeper. “That’s it, baby—you can take all of me.”
I dug my fingers into his buttocks and he gasped, siphoning air through his teeth. His deep blue gaze followed every lick of my tongue, how my lips moved over his throbbing cock. “Easy, don’t let me come.” I sat back on my heels, and waited for him to recover. He gulped in steam-filled air and exhaled.
I smiled up at him, kissing the tip of his cock, impressive in length, breadth and hardness. Chris reached down and pulled me up against him. “The more I have you, the more I want to explore, take it slow.”
I rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. “I feel the same way.”
He angled his head back to let the water flow over his hair and face. Rivulets of water ran down his long muscled body and engorged penis, which I reluctantly let go of.
“I had to cool off.” He opened crystal blue eyes. “You get me so fucking hard.” He pulled me close and rubbed against me. “I don’t want to come like a horny fifteen year old.”
I shut off the water, and he wrapped me in an Egyptian cotton bath sheet. Toweling off, I tore my eyes off his very persistent erection. “I’m maybe not so sold on this take it slow thing.”
His fierce gaze narrowed. “I want to fuck you rough and hard, Lizzy—but don’t let that happen.” As if to underscore his warning, he lifted me over his shoulder and slapped my ass cheeks. The sting of his hand engulfed my senses. I wished to be consumed by him—kissed, tongued, spanked, and fucked.
He lay me down on the berth built for two and positioned me for fucking. A devilish grin enhanced the smoldering fire in his eyes as the towel slipped off my body. I lay there naked and spread out before him.
“Open your legs, Lizzy.”
His badass, body-tingling demand inspired me. I opened slowly, thrusting my hips up and my head back—arching, undulating, and completely suggestive.
He moved between my raised knees and took in the sights. “So beautiful,” he murmured, brushing fingers over the tender, sensitive flesh of my inner thighs.
My breasts swelled and my nipples tightened. All the girl parts ached to be touched. He leaned over and boldly swirled his tongue into my naval and over my quivering belly. Slowly, methodically, he moved higher.
This was a man who knew how to drive me wild.
He knew the longer he made me wait for it, the more pleasure I’d experience. Finally his mouth closed over a nipple, sucking gently as he rolled the other between fingertips. Twisting playfully at first, then harder, sending a shot of arousal lower. Thrashing and bucking, I clutched the soft fabric of the duvet beneath me.
My chest and cheeks burned from arousal. “Please, Chris, I need you inside me.”
He gazed down at me and let me examine his lower anatomy. I traced a sweep of groin muscle down to his marathon penis, still rock hard and ready to go.
The moment I stroked, he exhaled through his teeth. “Take it easy.”
>
I kept my grip loose, tracing a zigzag of blue vein down the throbbing shaft. Gradually, I tightened my hold, massaging the tip at the finish of each stroke. He groaned. “You need to slow the fuck down, or I’m going to explode.”
Grabbing hold of my knees, he pulled my bottom toward the edge of the bed and placed a cushion under my ass. His eyes darkened, as he memorized every detail. “You have a pretty pussy.” Gently, he placed my arms over my head, and held my wrists together with one hand.
He used the fingertip of his free hand to circle my belly button and drop lower to a strip of pubic hair. All I had to do was lift my hips and his finger would slide in between my warm, glistening labia.
A spike of arousal ripped through every nerve ending in my body. He had me fired up on all circuits, and trembling with desire. Holding his finger close enough to drive me crazy, he tilted his head. “You can have anything but my cock.”
“But I want cock,” I cried, greedy for it.
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Then finger fuck me.” I sucked in a breath as his fingertips brushed lightly over my labia. I threw my head back and arched upward. “Oh, Chris, yes.” I gasped, the pleasure so intense, I could barely breathe. My belly shuddered as he slid two fingers into my glistening flesh, and stroked in an easy, gentle manner. He was patient, skillful, and I writhed beneath his touch and his gaze.
I wanted to reach out, but my hands were still cuffed at the wrist.
He moved over me, his lips brushing mine—sweet and teasing at first—then soft and deep, with a good deal of tongue. This was a man who was interested in taking me to new places sexually, and I wanted to be taught by him.
“Just so you know, Lizzy, I want you so fucking bad it hurts.”
“And I need you inside me.” I moaned.
He inserted a finger and teased up a flood of lubrication. He added another digit and delved deeper, curling his fingertips and rubbing gently. “Yes,” I cried out, when he hit the spot.
I had never been with a man so relentlessly disciplined and determined in bed. Even when he pushed his fingers in deep, and my hips thrust up wildly, urging him on—harder, faster—he backed away as if to say you’ll come when I say so.
His gaze locked on mine, as he monitored my arousal. I was on the knife’s edge of orgasm and he knew it.
A sexy lip curl tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I told you not to let me fuck you hard and rough earlier, but—”
“Get that rude fucking cock inside me now!”
He threw his head back with a bestial snort. “Yeah, you need it hard and rough.”
I’d never thought of myself as a girl who simply cannot get enough schlong, but he was encouraging a naughty, unexplored part of me, and she was a hot sensual female filled with unexplored needs and urges.
His beautiful eyes darkened as the pupils dilated. He straightened, freeing both my hands. “Keep them above your head and surrender to me.”
I felt open and vulnerable, completely exposed for his pleasure. Reaching under me, he found the small of my back, and slid his hands down to cup each buttock cheek. He tilted my pelvis and pushed into me, an inch at a time.
His handsome angular face, was instantly made vulnerable by pure sensation. “Ah, Lizzy.” He breathed the words as much as spoke them. With his jaw clenched tight and his neck muscles strained, he plowed into me. “Such a sweet cunt.” He bore down, stretching me, filling me with his beautiful driving cock.
I wrapped both legs around his hips, and squeezed, drawing him in tight. “Christ, you feel amazing,” I gasped, and he groaned in response, hooking his arms under my legs. He rocked me back as the head of his cock banged against my cervix.
“That’s it, take me deep.” He fucked me with a delicious roughness, balls slapping against my ass, driven to dominate as well as pleasure me.
He held me close, taut muscle against softer curves, both of us moving in sync. He slipped his hand between us and his fingers made slippery circles over and around my clit. Grinding against him, I arched upward, and moaned. I was close again, and he knew it.
Chris eased over on top of me. “Go for it, baby doll.” His mouth covered my mine and his tongue went deep and sensuous, as he pounded me—deeper and faster. “Come for me, Lizzy.”
His demand enflamed my lips, and tore through my body. “Oh, God, yes!” I cried out, as unstoppable waves of pleasure filled my senses. My legs trembled and my hips bucked under him.
Lost in the slow release of a deep, whole-body orgasm, I was also aware that my orgasm had triggered his. He grabbed my hips, pulling me into his thrusts as his jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck strained as he threw his head back, signaling the start of an explosive climax.
“Fuck, Lizzy, I’m going to come.” He finished with a deep, guttural growl, something between a wolf and a wildebeest.
I pumped slowly, rubbing out his pleasure, bringing him back to earth—to me—gently. The contrast between Chris bellowing in the throes of ecstasy and Chris nuzzling my ear in the afterglow of lovemaking was sweet and sensuous.
His eyes glowed softly. “You are beautiful when you come.”
“So much for saving rough and hard for later.” I sighed a breathless, post-orgasm sigh.
He rocked me gently against his groin. Happily entwined, I threw a leg over his, and he stroked my back. “I’ve still got a few rowdy moves left in me.”
It dawned on me slowly. “That wasn’t rough and—?”
He nuzzled my ear. “Trust me, it’s not rough and hard until you have a little trouble getting out of bed and walking straight.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I SNIFFED THE air and opened one eye. My other eye remained buried in a lavender scented pillow. The room was moving. I rolled over and experienced the same strange sensation I always feel during an earthquake. There’s this moment when I first sense the ground shift under me, only this wasn’t plate tectonics, this was vast, undulating ocean.
I sat up in bed and sniffed again.
The glorious aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the cabin. I checked the skylight. Not a cloud in the sky, nothing but pale blue overhead. Chris had let me sleep well into the morning.
And the boat was moving, but I wasn’t sick…yet.
I climbed out of our comfy double berth and searched for my backpack. My limited wardrobe for this trip consisted of cargo pants, a cropped hoodie, three pairs of white skivvies, three T-shirts, a hot pink sports bra, a pair of socks and combat boots.
Not exactly sea-going apparel. And there was no sign of my backpack anywhere. He must have already stowed our gear away. The walls of the cabin were loaded with built-in storage. I checked a number of drawers with no luck, and damn if that fresh brewed coffee didn’t continue to call my name.
It was a surefire bet Chris wouldn’t mind a naked sea nymph on deck.
On my way out of the cabin, I opened a tall louvered compartment and hit the jackpot. Several of his shirts hung inside the closet.
He was neat and tidy, just like my dad. I blamed the military for this obsessive-compulsive behavior. I yanked a shirt off the hanger and made my way toward the galley.
A die-hard caffeine addict begins to respond to the smell of coffee before she takes her first sip. I stared at the empty mug and the note placed beside the coffee machine.
Pour yourself a cup and join me on deck.
He was a note writer. And he printed instead of using cursive. It was such a little thing to know about him, and yet it gave me so much pleasure. I opened the fridge and found the almond milk.
With both elbows on the counter, I held the cup to my lips, savoring the moment. I inhaled the deep rich aroma and then sipped the creamy-brown liquid. “Heaven,” I sighed, and sipped again before climbing on deck.
A warm, gusty breeze blew through the cockpit. No one was behind the wheel, but I could see by our wake, we were traveling at a brisk pace.
Where was Chris?
And what
were the chances of running into another boat? I reminded myself that we were on the open ocean and felt slightly better until my brain took a darker turn. What if he had slipped and fallen off the boat? A shot of adrenaline made my heart beat wildly and I spun around, searching the surrounding water. I was about to call out his name when I spotted him near the bow of the ship, under the headsail.
I exhaled a sigh, and returned to my coffee. He reached out and grabbed the edge of some crumpled up material. He appeared to be fiddling around with…whatever it was sailors do with rigging and sails. The partially furled sail appeared to be caught up or stuck, until Chris let go and the sail filled with air.
I watched in awe as the beautiful sail billowed out over the bow.
Chris was so obviously in his element. And he appeared to be as attentive to the Zephyr as he had been to the quality of my orgasm last night. All my girl parts were slightly sore, just the way they should be after a masterful fucking.
He’d made cutoffs from a pair of trousers, and I stared shamelessly at those long legs with sinewy thighs that rippled when he moved. He was also shirtless. Gorgeous chest, abs, the whole naked torso package was a sight to behold, including smooth shoulders kissed by the sun.
Somehow I managed to tear my eyes off him long enough to go exploring. There were two ship’s wheels placed on the right and left side of the cockpit, and both featured a dashboard full of electronic instrumentation. I reached out and pressed a switch marked speaker system. A husky familiar voice floated out of hidden speakers and into the billowing sails overhead. I wondered if Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits was the only CD in the player.
Chris looked up from trimming the sail and caught sight of me in one of his shirts, which I hastily closed with a single button. His double-take was adorable.
I held up my coffee cup. “Thanks for the coffee and the orgasms, baby.”
He walked the side deck like a sailor, and dropped down into cockpit. The first thing he did was check the instrument panel beside the wheel.
EAT, SLAY, LUZT: A sexy wild ride through the dark heart of the zombie apocalypse. Page 19